


Make No Mistake

by ahopper84



Category: Hanson (Band), The Moffatts
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-17 20:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13666887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahopper84/pseuds/ahopper84
Summary: Scott's a former teen idol who wanted more and was denied. But he's done his fair share of denial as well. When Taylor Hanson stumbles back into his life, he'll be forced to face the choices he's made, and make some of his most important decisions yet.





	1. Chapter 1

Another Friday night, another set at the Neon Ballroom.  It wasn't the kind of bar I'd want to drink at, but they'd been looking for a guy with an acoustic guitar, and that was good enough for me. It was a regular gig, four times a week for almost decent pay plus tips. Kept me out of the street anyway, and mediocre music is better than nothing, right? That's what I kept telling myself at least.

Sure it was mostly just unplugged covers, but I was able to work in an original here and there. The well was running pretty close to dry, but I still managed to scribble something together once in a blue moon. Nothing like the old days though. I remembered a time when I couldn't go a day without words desperate to claw their way out of my brain and onto the page, when my fingers itched to play the chords in my head. But that was a lifetime ago, when I was just a naive little twerp who thought he was on top of the world, and nothing could bring him down.

God was I stupid.

“Alright, I'm gonna take five,” I said into the mic. I leaned my guitar against my stool, stepped down off the half-assed excuse for a stage, and headed straight for the bar.

“Good set tonight,” the bartender said as she slid me a beer and a shot of whiskey.

“Oh yeah, I'm on fire.” I rolled my eyes but smiled before slamming back the shot. Lori was the closest thing I had to a friend. We hung out sometimes, she'd try to tell me how to fix my life, I'd tell her what I thought of her girlfriend of the week. She was a great bartender, always knowing when to slide me another drink, or when not to, as my nights usually ended up.

I turned around in my seat and scanned the crowd. We were pretty busy tonight; I just hoped I came out with some decent tips. It was hard to tell sometimes though. The chick in diamonds might stiff you completely, while the hipster dude who looks like a hobo might throw you a twenty, or more. You never can tell.

I took a swig of my beer when I heard a noisy crowd come in. It was a group of maybe seven or eight, all grinning and laughing like they didn't have a care in the world. Must be nice, I thought to myself, but then nearly spit out my drink when I saw an all too familiar face. It couldn't be. But it was. Walking through the door like he owned the place was a guy I hadn't seen in a decade and a half. Not since I walked out on him.

“Hey Scott, you alright?” Lori asked. I nodded and turned back around, nodding behind me. “Oh wow,” she said, noticing the newcomers. “Is that If Only? I heard they were in town tonight. I used to have the biggest crush on-”

“Yeah, yeah,” I cut her off, rolling my eyes. “You and every other teenage girl at the time. Half the guys, too.”

“You should go say hi. One teen idol to another.”

I sneered at her, but she just laughed and shook her head. I looked over my shoulder. He and his band and entourage were sitting at one of the big booths in the corner. He was the center of attention, because of course.

He looked practically the same, just with a decade and a half tacked on, and even that barely showed. His blonde hair still hung around his shoulders, a little darker than I remembered. His smile practically lit up the room, and I couldn't tell from here, but I'd wager his eyes were just as blue and full of life. I caught myself staring, a sickeningly familiar pit in my stomach.

“Gimme another shot.”

Lori handed me two. I gave her a crooked smile and downed them back to back, then sighed.

“Something you wanna tell me?” She asked with a sly smirk of her own.

“No.” I got up and rolled my shoulders, then made my way across the room. The sound of their laughter grew louder, but died off when I reached their table.

“Well, well, well,” I said slowly. “If it isn't Taylor frickin’ Hanson.”

His eyes narrowed, one delicate eyebrow raising.

“Well, if it isn't some… guy…” As he trailed off his eyes widened, recognition setting in. I took a bit of comfort seeing him go through at least some of the shock I'd just had to endure.

“Scott,” he breathed, and I had to swallow down a dozen memories of him saying my name just like that.

“Looks like you're doing alright. Still got the backup singers. Travis, Chris, Stevie.” I nodded to his bandmates, who looked at me with varying levels if distaste. The rest of the group tried, and mostly failed, not to stare in surprise and confusion.

“You look… good,” Taylor said, looking me over. I didn't bother to hide the fact that I was sizing him up too.

“Thanks, sweetheart. You're not lookin’ so bad yourself. Still pretty as a princess.”

He scowled at me, and I chuckled. He was always so easy to rile up; just compare him to a girl. Everyone did back in the day, but he hated it most when I did it. I grabbed a chair from behind me and spun it around, straddling it backwards and draping my arms over the back.

“Please, join us,” Travis said dryly, looking like that was the last thing in the world he wanted.

“Don't mind if I do.”

“How've you been, Scott?” Taylor asked, still looking like he couldn't believe he was talking to me. I couldn't blame him; the whole thing felt too surreal, too much like a dream.

“Oh, you know, same shit different day. Sexs drugs and rock and roll, right?” I cocked an eyebrow at Taylor. He looked away, but I could see a hint of color on his cheeks.

“Isn't there supposed to be someone playing?” One of the random chicks in the group asked, nodding towards the stage. My shoulders stiffened, but I tried to shrug it off.

“He's busy.”

“Wait, don't tell me,” Stevie said, laughing, and I shot him a warning glare.

“Wow, you're really living the dream, aren't you?” Travis mocked, grinning. I sneered at him, ready to bite back, but Taylor spoke up.

“At least you're still playing.” He gave me such a gentle smile, but I could see the pity behind it, and it made me sick.

“Whatever, at least I'm not surrounding myself with all these bullshit posers who just wanna be close to the action.” I saw a few faces turn sour at that, but what did I care?

”These are our wives, dumbass,” Travis said, putting his arm around the girl next to him. I looked around and saw that sure enough, everyone was sporting a ring. I couldn't see Taylor's hands, though, and for a moment felt a little sick.

“How bout you, Tay? You ever picked a groupie for life?” I asked, trying to mask the rising wave of nausea. He stared at the table for a second, his cheeks noticeably red.

“No,” he said finally, glancing up. That sweet smile was gone, replaced with a look of barely-concealed pain and… longing?  I didn't know whether to feel better or worse.

“Bet you're getting all kinds of tail here,” Chris drawled, smirking.

“I do alright,” I shrugged, avoiding Taylor's eyes.

“Excuse me,” said a blonde chick coming over to the table. “I'm so sorry to bother you, but… could I get an autograph?” she asked, looking at Taylor.

“Of course,” he replied, plastering on the fake smile reserved for fans. It convinced them well enough, but I could always tell the difference.

“Thanks,” she giggled, then did a double-take when she noticed me. “Oh my gosh, Scott Moffatt?”

“What's up, sweetheart?” I said, and watched her melt a little.

“Oh wow, I didn't know you were here! I was your biggest fan! I mean, I still am. I still listen to your album all the time,” she said; I heard someone behind me snicker.

“Wait, are you playing around here too?”

“He sure is,” Travis piped up, pointing at the stage. I glanced over and saw the manager looking around for me. I was gonna catch shit for sure if I didn't get my ass back up there soon.

“Oh my God, really?” The girl squealed. “Can you please play Sparks Fly Slowly? That's my favorite song ever!”

Inwardly I cringed. Of course that was her favorite, and of course she wanted me to play it now, with the guy it was written about sitting right across from me. But I swallowed back the bile and grinned.

“How could I let down my biggest fan?” I said with a wink, and I swore she was about to faint. I took one last brief look around the table before heading over to the stage.

“Okay guys, and ladies, this one's a special number, going out to a very special person. You know who you are.” I smiled at the girl, who was freaking out with her friends. But then I looked at Taylor, not surprised to see him staring back at me. I swallowed hard and took a breath, then began to sing.

I tried to look around the crowd, making every chick think I was singing it just for her. But my eyes kept going back to Taylor.

_ And sparks fly, slowly, _

_ Ignite the night, but only for a while. _

_ Is it enough to make me burn? _

_ Flashes of heat and light, _

_ Don't care if it's wrong or right, _

_ I want these sparks to catch, I wanna burn. _

_ I want you, want you and I to burn. _

By the time I finished, Taylor looked like someone had kicked his puppy down three flights of stairs. I felt a wave of something that almost felt like guilt, but swallowed it down.

After that I launched into my usual mix of classic rock covers, with a few original songs sprinkled in, avoiding anything too personal. I kept an eye on Taylor's table, but it seemed he was chosing to ignore me.

“Well that's it for me tonight.  You guys have been a great crowd. Catch you next time.” Normally I'd make some quip about supporting your local starving artist or some shit like that as a last-ditch call for tips, but I didn't need to give Tay's cronies any more ammo.

Not that it mattered, as I saw them heading for the door. I packed my shit in record time and waved to Lori, trying not to look like I was chasing after them. They got out the door before me, but they hadn't gotten far, stopped to wait as Taylor lit a cigarette.

“What, not gonna say goodbye?” I shot him a smile, slinging my guitar case over my shoulder.

“Early bus call,” he said, looking anywhere but at me.

“C'mon,” I said, stepping closer and lowering my voice. “Let's ditch these losers, go have a drink or something. For old times sake.” I let my guard down the tiniest bit, hoping he'd take me up on the offer. He looked at me, and for a moment I was sixteen again.

“Jeez, some people just can't let go of the past,” Travis said loudly.  “Sad, really.”

I wanted to deck him, and it wouldn't be the first time. I ignored the violent urge and waited for some response from Taylor, anything at all. But he just stared at me with those puppy eyes, and slowly turned away.

I sneered, my hands balling into fists.

“You know what? Fine. Screw you. I don't need to waste my time on your big-shot prima donna ass anyway. Here's to another fifteen years of forgetting you exist; let's hope this time it sticks.”

I turned and started walking the other direction. Sure it was a petty, dick thing to say, not to mention complete bull, but if he could act like we didn't run into each other for a reason, so could I. Hell, maybe it really was just a random coincidence. Not that I'd ever put that much faith in fate anyway; if I did, it'd just drive me crazy searching for a reason things happened the way they had between me and him. Other than me being a spineless asshole, that is.

I got about a block and a half before I heard footsteps coming up behind me in a damn hurry. My shoulders tensed, and I thought about speeding up, but instead my feet slowed to a stop. I could hear Taylor behind me, trying to catch his breath.

“Can't run like you used to, huh?” I said over my shoulder. “Better not let the fangirls find out; one of these days they might actually catch you.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, still a little breathless. He was actually apologizing; him, even though I was the one that  tried to drag him away from his friends, and threw an asshole bitch fit when he said no. And he was apologizing. I could hardly believe it, and yet it made perfect sense; that's exactly the kind of guy he always had been, the first to move, to bend, to break. Especially with me. Some things never change.

I turned and glanced down the block at his group, well beyond hearing, or even really watching range. Feeling bold, I wrapped my fingers around his slender wrist.

“It's good to see you,” I said quietly.

“You too,” he replied, biting his lip. “I wish…”

“Yeah, yeah,” I sighed, letting his wrist slip from my grasp. “You've got your rockstar life to get back to.” I leaned against the building beside us, digging a cigarette out of my pocket and lighting it. I took a drag, then held it out to Taylor. He moved to take it from me, but I pulled back, smirking. Even under the dim street light I could see his blush as he leaned forward, wrapping his lips around the cigarette still held between my fingers.  I let my thumb brushing his cheek and he shivered, his eyes falling closed.

Every nerve in my body screamed at me to grab him and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. My fingers twitched, my heart pounding as he exhaled slowly, staring at me through his lashes.

“I have to go,” he breathed, his voice almost whiny with reluctance. I wondered which of us he was trying harder to convince.

“If you wanna go, then go. But you and I both know you don't 'have to’ do a god damn thing.”

His eyes darted away, towards his gang, then back to me. I coul see the wheels turning. I held my breath.

“I can't.”

“Fine.

I pushed away from the wall and turned away.

“Scott, wait.”

“What.”

“Can… can I… call you?”

“I dunno, can you?” I was being a little bitch again, but I was in too shitty a mood to care.

“Scott,” he whined, and I could hear him roll his eyes. It made me smile, just a little, and I turned around.

“Gimme your phone.”

He handed over the device, and I entered my number. I just knew this was gonna bite me in the ass one way or another.

A loud whistle got our attention, and we both turned. Of course it was his band, waving their arms like a bunch of jackasses.

“Go on, princess,” I said, giving his shoulder a shove.  “Your adoring public awaits.”

He stared at me for another moment, then turned and jogged down the block to his friends. As I watched him go, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. This couldn't have been a freak chance occurrence; it had to mean something, didn't it? Otherwise, what was the point? Tearing open old wounds for nothing? I shook my head and turned towards home. It had to mean something. I just hoped it meant something good.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, this and every other even-numbered chapter are gonna take place in the past. I'll put dates, but I just wanted to make sure it was clear. Enjoy!

**May 31st, 2000**

“Come on in, guys,” the record executive said from his seat at the end of the conference table. “The others should be here in just a few. Why don't you have a seat.”

I looked over at Jeff and Max as we sat down. “Told you we were early.”

“Nah, the other guys are just late,” Jeff said, picking out a donut from the open box on the table.

“Speak of the devil,” Max said, nodding towards the opening door.

“Ah, morning, guys,” the exec said as he got up to shake each one's hand. I heard Jeff snort next to me; it was pretty clear which of our bands was the label favourite.

“Well, this is your first time meeting, isn't it?” the exec said, gesturing to us. “Jeff, Max, and Scott, aka Life On Mars. Guys, this is If Only: Stevie, Travis, Chris, and Taylor.”

We all said hey and shook each other's hands. Taylor was the last I got to, but he'd been the first one I noticed.

“Hey,” he said to me, tucking a piece of long blonde hair behind his ear. I'd heard people say he looked like a chick, and I could definitely see it; his features were all delicate and soft. He made a pretty attractive chick, though. It was no wonder he was the ultimate teen dream of the moment. It was the eyes that did it the most, the perfect shade of sparkling blue. Even I felt myself drawn to him for some reason.

Once the introductions were done and we were all seated, the record executive started passing out folders.

“This tour is gonna be huge,” he said. “If Only and Life On Mars, co-headlining across north America. We're working on the logistics of a European leg, too, but we'll see how things go here. Now here's your itinerary as it stands. If anything more gets added, of course, we’ll let you know, but we don't want you to get too sick of each other,” he said with a chuckle. “You know, some of the boys were saying if this thing kicks off, we might have an idea for some kind of tv show? Wouldn't that be something.”

The guy prattled on, but I mostly tuned him out. I flipped open the folder and perused the list of shows, interviews, publicity appearances and whatnot. After a couple minutes I felt someone staring at me, and looked up. Taylor's eyes darted away, and I smirked.

“Scott, Taylor,” the suit said, and I looked over. “I'd especially like to see you two get to know each other. You have a lot in common, and I think you’ll really get along well.”

“And we're the fan favorites, and it'd be good publicity?” I said, cocking an eyebrow. I heard someone from Taylor's side of the table clear their throat.

“I suppose that's one way of putting it,” the exec said with a tight-lipped smile. “Well… I suppose that covers just about everything,” he said and stood up. “Have fun out there, and we'll be in touch soon.”

We all started to file out of the board room, conversations starting up between the two groups. Taylor hung back until the rest of the guys were a little further ahead, then stepped up next to me.

“Hey,” he said, tucking his hair back again.

“Sup?”

“So… this should be fun, right? Touring together?” He stuck his hands in his back pockets as we slowly walked down the hall towards the elevators, our bandmates pulling further ahead.

“Gonna be interesting. We all taking one bus?”

“I think so.”

“Cool.”

Apparently we'd dragged ass long enough to miss the elevator, not that all seven of us probably would've fit anyway. I hit the button a few times, then leaned back against the wall.

“So,” Taylor said, rocking on his heels. “You're seventeen, right?”

“Just turned a couple months ago. You?”

“Same. March 14th. Yours was the 30th, right?” he asked, smiling. I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Someone did their homework. You know my favorite color, too?”

His cheeks turned pink and he looked down, shrugging. I had to admit, from the right angle he really did look kinda like a chick. At least he made a pretty hot chick, though. That thought startled me, but only for a moment.

“Yours is red, right?”

His head shot up, and I had to chuckle. The elevator dinged and we both got in. As we started our descent, I looked at some of the itinerary pages in my folder. We were pretty busy, roughly a day off a week, and most of those were gonna be spent getting to the next stop. Suddenly I got that being-watched feeling again; a subtle glance confirmed that Tay was, as far as I could tell, checking me out.

“See something you like?” I asked quietly, without turning around. I heard him swallow hard, and bit back a snort. When I didn't get any more of a response, I looked over my shoulder at him. “That's not a no.”

He licked his lips, his eyes darting from my face, to the elevator doors, and back.  
“That wasn't… I mean… what?”

The elevator came to a stop with a thud. I let my eyes flicker up and down his body, just slow enough for him to see, then turned around.

“There you guys are,” one of Taylor's bandmates said. Our combined group was waiting for us just down the hall.

“We're all going to the Hard Rock for lunch,” Max told me.

“Sounds good.” I slipped my sunglasses on, but took a moment to glance over them at Taylor. His cheeks were almost back to a normal color, and he gave a little smile.

We waited for our bodyguards to give us the all clear, then headed out to our waiting cars.

“So what do you guys think?” Jeff asked as he slid into the seat next to me.

“They seem pretty cool,” Max answered. “Travis said he'll bring his N64 if I bring my PlayStation.”

“What about Blondie? You get a read on him, Scott?”

“He's alright,” I said, shrugging.

“He really does look like a girl though.”

“You think the rumors about him are true?” Max asked with a crooked grin.

“Guess we'll find out,” Jeff said. “Three months stuck together on a bus, no way he can keep a secret like that.”

“Hey, do you think the bus will have a DVD player? Stevie said he's got a bunch of movies he can bring.”

I looked out the window, only half-listening to the conversation. What Max had said about rumors had me wondering. I was sure I'd seen Taylor checking me out in the elevator. I couldn't say I minded much; I'd been looking too. It wasn't something I wanted to admit to anyone, but lately I’d noticed just as many guys I found attractive as girls. I didn't know if it was just a phase or something more permanent, but it was all theoretical so far anyway, so it didn't bother me much.

The restaurant was packed when we got there, but we made our way to a booth in the back where Hanson was already sitting. Taylor flashed me a smile as I slid into the seat next to him.

“So Scott,” one of the guys - Chris, I was pretty sure - said. “You're the guitar guy, right?”

“That's me. You too?”

“Yep. I've been trying to teach Tay here, but he's hopeless. Maybe you can get something to stick.”

“I'm not hopeless, you're just a crappy teacher.”

“I'll see what I can do,” I said, laughing. “So what do you play then? Or are you just the pretty boy front man?”

Taylor's cheeks turned pink at that.

“He's not the front man,” Travis spoke up, an edge to his tone. “Even if that's what the suits keep trying to push. I swear to God Tay, you’d better not let that shit go to your head. If you turn diva on us I'm gonna kick your ass.” He laughed, but I could feel the tension behind what he was saying.

“C’mon Travis, you know I won't. I hate that they're even trying to push us in that direction.”

“We're starting to get that, too,” Jeff spoke up. “Scott sings lead on most of our songs, so they're starting to make him out to be the leader or something.”

“I am the leader,” I said with a grin, and got a shove in return. “For real, though, it's not that big a deal. Every band’s got a face; doesn't make the other guys less important. The Stones wouldn't be The Stones without Keith Richards, even if you mostly hear about Jagger.”

“Right,” Taylor said, nodding. “Or look at the Beatles. Paul and John were the 'popular’ ones, but some of their best songs were written by George and Ringo.”

“Well, George, anyway,” Max added.

“We got to meet Ringo last year,” Stevie said.

Our waiter showed up, so the next couple minutes were spent ordering. After that the conversation split up into smaller ones. Taylor looked at the table and played with the tangled mess of necklaces around his throat.

“Nice collection,” I said. He looked up and smiled a little.

“Thanks. It wasn't really intentional, but yeah I guess there's a few of them now.This one's from my grandma, these two I got on tour, and this one my little sister made for me.” He held up each one and showed them off.

“Nice. I'm not really a jewelry kinda guy, but that's cool. I'm thinking of getting something pierced, though.”

“Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head. “Like an earring or something?”

“Maybe, but I'm kinda leaning towards something a little more exciting.”

“Oh. Like… like what?”

“Don't know yet,” I said, shrugging. “I'm not getting my junk pierced, that's for damn sure.”

“Ugh, yeah no way.” Taylor cringed, and I chuckled.

“Maybe my eyebrow. Or my tongue; that could be fun,” I said with a wink. He stared at me for a second, then looked away.

“Y-yeah… I guess…”

“You ever think about getting pierced?”

“No,” he snorted. “I'm pretty sure the label would kill me.”

“Yeah, wouldn't wanna mess up the pretty princess image.”

Taylor's shoulders tensed, and he turned to glare at me.

“I'm not a princess,” he snapped.

“Sure you are, sweetheart. Prettiest princess on the block.” I laughed as his cheeks turned bright red. “Relax, I'm just yanking your chain. Anyway chicks dig that right now. Sweet and innocent is in.”

“Right,” Taylor said, rolling his eyes. “I get called a girl all the time, just because I've got long hair. It's ridiculous.”

“It's not just the hair, though. You gotta admit, you do have a kinda…”

He sneered at me, but it was more like a growling puppy than anything actually intimidating. Still, I didn't wanna completely piss him off before the tour even started.

“Okay, fine,” I said, holding up my hands. “I'll lay off. Anyway, who gives a crap what the suits have to say? You wanna do something, do it.”

“I guess. Never really thought about doing anything like that anyway, though.”

“Suit yourself. You should totally come with if I decide to go for it while we're on tour, though. Might change your mind.”

“I don't know about that, but I'll go with you. So… what kind of music do you listen to?”

We talked about our favorite bands for a while; it turned out we had a lot in common there, too, both liking classic rock, and a little country as a guilty pleasure. I was into some harder stuff than him, Godsmack, Tool, and the like, and he admitted to being a Michael Jackson fan. Our food came, so the conversation slowed down while we ate.

“I'll bring all my CD’s and we can trade,” I said after a while. He nodded, smiling.

“I'll bring mine too. Just don't judge too harshly.”

“Who, me? Never.” I grinned and took a sip of my soda. “Princess,” I added under my breath, teasing. He heard, and nudged my knee with his, but I saw a hint of a smile. This was gonna be an interesting tour, to say the least.


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay,” Lori said as she flopped down onto my couch and passed me a beer. “Spill. What was all that about last night?”

“No clue what you're talking about.”

She arched an eyebrow as she sipped her own beer.

“Right. So I totally imagined the weirdness. There's obviously a story there, and I wanna know, so start talking.”

“Lor,” I groaned, but she started poking me. “Prying bitch.”

“You love me. C'mon, it'll make you feel better to talk about it.”

“Trust me, it won't.”

“Scotty,” she whined, then giggled at my growl.

“Don't fucking call me Scotty. You know I hate that.”

“So then talk.”

“It doesn't fucking matter, okay?” I snapped. “Ancient fucking history, so just fucking drop it.”

She stared at me with wide eyes, and I felt a twinge of guilt. 

“Scott,” she said softly, putting a hand on my arm. “I'm no therapist, but I'm pretty sure your reaction just proves there's something still there. I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and feel free to correct me, but were you two…”

“Were we what?” I said through gritted teeth. She just nodded.

“Well then. Guess that confirms that rumor. The one about him being gay,” she added when my head snapped up. “Although I know plenty of girls that thought you'd make a great couple. Man, Trinity would have a fit if she knew. She used to write fanfic about you two, and… and I'll just stop talking now.”

“Good idea.”

We sat in silence for a while. She got up and grabbed us each another beer, and we finished those before she spoke again. 

“Okay,” she said slowly, turning her empty bottle in her hands. “So obviously things didn't end on a happy note. Only question is, who left who?” She stared at me for a few seconds, until I couldn't stand the awkward silence.

“Who do you think?” I grumbled, peeling the label off my beer.

“Oh, Scott,” she sighed. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Fuck no.”

“Fair enough. What about the other night? Feel like telling me what happened then?”

“Not much,” I said with a shrug. “Talked for about five minutes. Found out his bandmates are still dicks. Asked if he wanted to go do something. He said no. End of story.”

“I'm sorry. Maybe it's for the best, though.”

“Gave him my number. Not like I just volunteered it. He asked.”

“He asked for your number? That's good, that means he wants to talk.”

“Yeah, sure.” I pulled out my phone and stared at it. Of course he hadn't called. “I should've just told him to fuck off. I mean, I did. But I shouldn't have given him my number.”

“Because you don't want to talk to him, or because you don't want to wind up staring at your phone all day and night waiting for him to call?” She looked at me with a know-it-all smirk that I really wanted to smack off her pretty pink lips.

“Because there's no point. That shit happened forever ago. He's different, I'm different; it's not like we could just--”

The sound of my phone ringing silenced me. 

“Is that him?” Lori asked, her eyes wide and her grin wider. I looked down at my phone, but I didn't recognize the number. “Well don't just sit there, dumbass. Answer it!”

Grumbling, I turned in my seat and hit the green button.

“Who's this?”

“Um… it's Taylor.”

“Oh. Hey.” 

“I'm not bothering you, right? I can call later if you're busy.”

“Nah, it's cool. Just chilling.” I got up and started slowly pacing my living room, ignoring Lori's excited smile.

“That's cool. We're on the road. No show tonight, but we're doing Philly tomorrow.”

“Shame I couldn't get tickets,” I said, and he let out a nervous laugh. 

“I'm sorry about last night,” he said after a moment. “I really did want to catch up; I still can't believe we ran into you.”

“Yeah. Of all the shitty bars in New York…”

“Like I said, though, at least you're still playing. You ever release a solo album or anything?”

“Nah. Got a few songs that might make the cut, but…” I shrugged, but remembered he couldn't see me. Still, I was pretty sure he got the gist. “Apparently you guys are still goin’ at it.”

“Yeah,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “We just released our sixth album a few months ago. It's not topping the charts or anything, but it's doing alright. We've been keeping pretty busy. The guys took breaks for their honeymoons and when their kids were born, but other than that we've pretty much pulled full-time.”

“Kids, huh? Somebody actually let those mouth-breathers breed?”

“Scott,” Taylor sighed.

“Okay, okay. I'm sure they made perfectly adequate babies. As long as they got their moms’ looks.”

“Travis and Chris both have girls, and Stevie's got one of each. They're all in grade school now; it's so hard to believe how fast they've grown.”

“Little parasites'll do that,” I chuckled. “So everyone went and got hitched, huh?”

“Mhm. Chris was the last one, but he's been married… gosh, eight years now, I think? Their wives are all really nice. It's too bad I didn't get to introduce you.”

“Yeah, real shame,” I deadpanned. “And what about you? Any hopefuls?”

“No,” Taylor said quietly. “I'm not seeing anyone.”

“Right. Was just wondering if you had another reason for not wanting to get together.”

Taylor heaved a deep sigh.

“What about you?”

“Free as a bird, for now anyway.” I looked over at Lori, who was watching me like I was the most interesting thing ever. I scowled at her and headed for the kitchen.

“Listen, Scott,” Taylor began. I reached for a beer from the fridge, but changed my mind and went to my liquor cabinet instead. I had a feeling whatever he said next was gonna make me want to be a lot less sober.

“I did a lot of thinking last night.”

“That so?” I finished making myself a drink and leaned against the counter. “Anything in particular?”

“You,” came his quiet reply. 

“What about me?”

“I don't know,” he sighed. “Just… everything, I guess.”

“You didn't say no to me ‘cuz of an early bus call.” I took a long, slow sip of my whiskey and waited for the answer I knew I'd get.

“No.”

I emptied my glass and closed my eyes.

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

“I mean, what is this? You called me, and I wanna know why.”

“Because I- I missed you, okay? I didn't even realize it until I saw you. Fifteen years might as well have been fifteen minutes, because as soon as I realized it was you, all I wanted to do was--”

Taylor cut himself off, and I realized I was holding my breath.

“What, Tay? What did you want to do?”

“Shit. I have to go. Look, maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Fucking tease,” I grumbled, but I could hear someone in his end calling his name.

“I'm sorry. I'll call you tonight, okay?”

“You better not leave me hanging.”

“I won't,” he said, and I could tell he was smiling again. “It's really good to hear your voice.”

“Yeah… yours too,” I admitted. “I'll catch you later… Princess.”

I ended the call before he could get in another word. My hands were shaking as I poured myself another drink. I threw it back and refilled my glass again, then brought it and the bottle into the living room. Lori had the smarts to look away before I got through the doorway.

“I was thinking pizza for dinner,” she said, looking at her phone. “You down?” 

“You buying?”

“I asked, didn't I?”

I waited for her to pester me about the conversation with Taylor, but her questions never came. She just launched into an anti-Hawaiian pizza tirade, then a story about her latest ex. That was one of my favorite things about Lori; when it really came down to it, she knew where to draw the line and back off. I knew she was dying to know the juicy details, but she didn't mention it for the rest of the night.

Later, after she'd gone home, I laid in my bed staring at the ceiling. Thoughts and memories came and went as I replayed my conversation with Taylor. He missed me. I didn't know what to do with the flutter that thought caused in my stomach. Had I missed him too?

It wasn't a simple yes-or-no question. I'd left him for a reason; a damn good reason, I'd thought at the time. Sure, it ended up being a moot point, but what was I supposed to do by then? When my life was falling apart around me, was I supposed to go crawling back to him, begging for forgiveness? Fuck that.

But did I miss him? 

I'd thought about him plenty over the years. I'd see something that reminded me of him, or of us. And of course there were all those songs I'd written about him. And yeah, maybe there were a few times when I went searching the mental files for fantasy fodder, and his face popped up.

I usually didn't waste my time thinking about “what if”, but there were nights I could remember doing exactly that. I didn't regret my decisions, but that didn't stop me from wondering what might've been.

I guessed it all came down to whether I was happier before he walked back into my life, or after. I hadn't been exactly miserable before, but I didn't know if I'd call what I was happy, either. I was kind of just… surviving. Existing. And now…

Now I was feeling all sorts of crap, and it was confusing and frustrating and I didn't like it. I honestly didn't know what I would've done if he'd said yes and gone with me. Oh I had ideas, for sure, but thinking and acting are two totally different ballparks.

This was getting me nowhere. I needed to take my mind off the whole damn thing. I grabbed my coat and headed downstairs. They say location is everything, and I had to agree; my apartment was kind of a shithole, but it was in a perfect spot for me - directly above a bar.

It was the kind of place that'd been there for decades. It'd probably changed hands and names at least half a dozen times, but the crowd was always the same. Drinks were pretty cheap, for New York anyway. There were a couple pool tables in the back, and an electronic darts machine I'd never actually seen turned on. Music played from a jukebox, usually some kind of classic rock or old-school country. It was dark and dirty, and I loved it.

“Hey Scott. The usual?” Greg was tending bar tonight; he was a good guy, older, but not someone you'd wanna cross. He already had my drinks - a beer and a shot of whiskey - poured by the time I sat down.

“How's it hangin’ Gramps?”

“Long enough,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout you?”

“SSDD, same shit different day.” I threw back my shot and looked around. “Another slow night?”

“It's still early,” Greg said, but I could tell he wasn't buying his own excuse. “Quality over quantity anyway, right?”

“Yeah…” I eyed him as he wiped down the bar, then went to help a few guys at the other end.

Greg was one of the few people in this city I gave a shit about. A big part of the reason was that he'd been one of the first to give a crap about me. When I first got to the city, his bar was the first place I'd stopped to catch my breath. He rented me my apartment, got me my job, and didn't ask too many questions. Not about how an eighteen year old kid was able to pay a year's rent up front in cash, or why he already had the drinking habit of a guy twice his age. 

Eventually we got to know each other. He always had an ear when I needed to vent, and I tried to take his advice to heart when he offered it. Over the years, he really became more like family than a landlord. My first Christmas there, he came up with a bottle of Scotch and his favorite version of a Christmas Carol. Fourth of July, we shot off fireworks in the parking lot. I don’t know how he found out, but on my birthday there was a gorgeous vintage Gibson sitting on my couch with a big red bow. 

I think he liked having me around as kinda like a son or something, although he'd probably deck anyone accusing him of being so cheesy. 

I sat and people-watched as I sipped my beer. A few people came in, some regulars, some obviously lost tourists. I threw a few bucks in the jukebox to keep the tunes going. The vibe was laid back, exactly what I'd needed.

About an hour later, I happened to be watching the door when a newcomer entered. He looked about my age, maybe a little younger. Short black hair, band tee, ripped jeans and shit-kicker boots. He wasn't bad looking, and I smiled a little. He looked around for a second before taking a seat next to me at the bar.

“Hey,” I said. He gave me a sidelong glance, his eyes flickering up and down almost too quick to catch. Almost.

“Hey.”

I waited for him to order his drink and get comfortable. Greg gave me a look and a half-smile, shaking his head.

“Don't think I've seen you here before,” I said. “New in town?”

“Just passing through. I'm taking a road trip cross country.”

“Sounds fun. Going solo?” I turned in my seat to face him, and he did the same.

“Yeah. It's…” He paused to bite his lip and eye me for a second. “I know it's cliche as heck, but I just needed to kinda find myself, you know? Clear my head.”

“Trust me, man. I know what that's like. Let me get you a refill?”

“Sure.” He finally gave me a real smile. “I'm Mike.”

“Scott.” I flagged Greg down for a couple more beers and two shots. “Here's to finding what you're looking for.”

We stared each other down as we threw back our drinks. He licked his lips, an almost shy smile tugging at the corners, and I grinned.

It wasn't more than an hour later that we were upstairs, a trailing path of clothing leading from the door to the bed.

“Fuck, I needed that,” he laughed as he collapsed in a sweaty, panting mess beside me. I chuckled and took a drag off my cigarette before passing it to him.

“You and me both.”

“I should probably get going,” he sighed with a sour expression.

“Maybe. You don't look much like someone who wants to go anywhere, though.” I grinned and lightly dragged my nails down his arm. He shivered and closed his eyes, almost dropping the cigarette.

“Careful now,” I said, taking it from him. I took one last pull before stubbing it out in the ashtray on my nightstand.

“Maybe I can stay a little longer…”

“I dunno, I thought you said you had to go?” I smirked and leaned closer, biting at his neck. 

“You're a little evil, you know that, right?’

“I get that a lot.”

“That doesn't surprise me.” We kissed slowly, teasing each other as we revved up for round two. 

Two turned into three, and then four as the sun was just coming up.

“This isn't gonna be weird, is it?” he asked as he pulled on his jeans. “I mean, this was fun, but-”

“Relax, sweetheart,” I said with a dismissive wave. “You're cute and all, but this was what it was. You have fun finding yourself, and anyone else.” 

“Take care, Scott. Thanks.”

I was halfway asleep by the time he was out the door. Exhausted and just the right kind of sore, I passed out finally without a worried thought on my mind.


End file.
